Lost Tomorrows

If we could trade away our “lost tomorrows”
And win with them the “Years that used to be”-
The young girl, with the brown eyes’
By the table…..the whispering winds in Spring-
That sang to me!

The crimson tinted clouds of Early Morning-
The summerdays so softly laid to rest!
The rustling corn, the night,
With twiight falling-
Of all these days, which do we call the best?

But no one wants to trade away TOMORROW;
It is in our last days…a precious dream;
The twilight comes too soon across the prairie-
And WINTER comes again, when summers gone.